‘Oh, Ma,’ I say. ‘It’s a shotgun wedding. I was thinking of a simple mermaid dress.’
‘Simple!’ my mother explodes. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’ She throws her hands up animatedly. ‘This is a once-in-a-lifetime event. Who are you to deny yourself the best and most beautiful wedding dress possible on your big day?’
My mother is right. A wedding should be fun. Every gypsy wedding that I have attended, even the tackiest, most over-the-top ones with white stretch-limos and chocolate fountains have been far more enjoyable, exciting, and dramatic than any of the elegant, color-coordinated, chair-covered, non-gypsy ones. And when I think back, a sedate wedding is classy and admirable, but it is the big gypsy weddings that are unforgettable.
I look at Thelma. ‘You know what, I will have that big ball gown after all.’
But Thelma is not the queen of the gypsy bridal dress for nothing. ‘I can do you a mermaid wedding dress and make your mother happy too,’ she declares confidently.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’
And she is as good as her word. The very next day she comes back with two sketches. Ma and me agree on a fit-and-flare design with a sweetheart neckline, pearls on the bodice, and hundreds and hundreds of taffeta handkerchiefs sewn together to make the billowing skirt and train. It comes with a little bolero for the church. The whole ensemble is in shades of oyster.
In a week Thelma calls me for my first fitting. The three of us drive over to her shop. It is exciting and frightening. I’m not sure if she can really pull of a big mermaid dress.
‘Come in,’ she says. I can tell she is eager to show us her creation. She takes us quickly to the back of the shop. In a move that is pure drama, she pauses in front of a closed door, and with her hand on the handle, turns to us and asks, ‘Are you ready for this?’
My mother, Maddy, and I nod. While butterflies flutter in my stomach, she theatrically flings open the door.
The dress is on a stand, its train of thousands of taffeta squares spread out like an enormous fish tail behind it. I gasp and stare in amazement. My mother squeals like a young girl and Maddy claps her hands with delight. Any fears I had that it would be tacky or too My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding are laid to rest forever. The dress is amazing. Totally and utterly spectacular. It is a masterpiece, pure and simple.
The days pass in a blur of hectic activity and excitement. Only moments shine through with full HD clarity. Those rare moments I look at in amazed wonder, sometimes disbelief. So this is my life. A week before the wedding, I give up my apartment, transport most of my stuff into BJ’s home, and move into my mother’s house. At this point BJ and I are no longer able to see each other alone and the separation is pure torture.
But suddenly, before I know it, my wedding day is upon me. I wake up early, a bundle of nerves, and lie very quietly in the dark. Already, I can hear my mother and aunts moving about the house. I put my hand on my stomach. It’s still flat, but my baby is growing inside.
‘We’re getting married today,’ I whisper, and a thrill of excitement runs through me.
Maddy is the first to arrive and we eat breakfast in my bedroom together. We speak in whispers and giggle quietly as if we are children on a midnight adventure.
The hairdresser arrives at seven. Ma makes her a cup of coffee and she sets about separating my hair into two parts, gathering the top half into a bun at the back of my head and putting corkscrew curls into the lower half and leaving them trailing down my back and shoulders. She fits a princess tiara over my head, and the make-up artist takes me on. She spends an hour on my face, painting, dabbing, drawing, brushing, and then gluing on individual spikes of false eyelashes.
By now the house is crowded with friends and relatives bringing presents. Gypsies are generous gift givers and the pile of presents soon fills the dining table and spills onto the floor, and still more well-wishers are flooding through the doors. Ma breaks into the stack of champagne cases and the house heaves as if it is a party.
Then the dress arrives.
From my window I watch Thelma and her two assistants carefully carry it into the house. They bring it upstairs to my room and Thelma and her assistants help me into it. My heart is racing with nerves.
‘Oh, oh, oh,’ exclaims a delighted Maddie. ‘You look stunning.’
When I have been laced into the dress and the veil fixed into place, I walk over to the mirror with bated breath.
And … almost do not recognize the person in the mirror. I look like I have stepped out of a page of a fairytale. Ma, who has changed into a pretty grey-blue dress, has tears in her eyes. She dabs them away carefully with the edge of a tissue.
‘You look absolutely beautiful, Layla,’ she says.
‘You were right, Ma. The dress is perfect.’
My mother smiles through her tears.
Thelma and her assistants pick up the train and hem of the skirt as I go through the door, preventing me from stepping on it and falling headlong down the stairs. They carry the train as I go down the stairs in my pearl-encrusted slippers.
And then I am standing in front of Jake. He looks gorgeous in his grey morning suit. His eyes are so bright and full of pride.
‘Oh! Layla. If only Da could see you. You’re the princess he always said you were,’ he says.
Lily smiles. The confinement thing has really worked. She is glowing and beautiful. ‘I always knew he would get you.’
‘You did?’
She nods. ‘He’s a good guy. I’ll never forget what he did for Jake and me. I’m so happy for you. Be happy always, Layla.’
Then Dominic and Shane come to kiss me. They look incredibly handsome in their new suits. Dominic nods approvingly, and even Shane forgets to be a smartass. ‘You look truly beautiful,’ he says sincerely.
As I walk to the front door, everybody takes pictures and videos.
Gingerly, I step out of my mother’s house and scream. I can’t believe it. I don’t know whether it is Jake or BJ who has arranged it, but it is the last thing I am expecting. A glass carriage is waiting on the road. It is dainty and ornate and quite simply magical, something you would see in a Disney movie. It has two grooms in livery and two white steeds with plumed headdresses.
‘BJ insisted on it,’ Jake says.
Jake gets in first and then Thelma helps me into the carriage so that I am sitting opposite him and my train is coiled between us. The door closes and we are off, with passing cars tooting their horns at us all the way to the church. Complete strangers hang their heads out of their cars, smile, wave, and wish me well.
By the time we get to the church, we are 30 minutes late and the bridesmaids and flower girls are all lined up and waiting. Maddy winks at me. Jake reaches over and squeezes my hand.
‘Thank you, Jake. Thank you for everything,’ I say. My voice sounds shaky.
‘Never mind that. Don’t ruin your mascara,’ he says, his voice is gruff.
Thelma and her assistants help me out of the carriage. I step out into the sunshine. It is a beautiful, still spring day. There are strangers gathered all around watching the wedding procession. And suddenly I have an attack of nerves. I turn blindly to Jake. I’ve been doing that since I was child. Always Jake. Fighting all my battles.
‘I’m with you every step of the way,’ he says, holding his hand out.
I take it, and just like that I am no longer nervous that I will trip, fall, or make a mistake. I am excited by the future that awaits me in the church. We walk up the steps to the church, my fingers resting lightly on his forearm. The sound of the wedding march floats out the double doors.
We make our way to the entrance, instantly I see my bridegroom. All in white. So broad and tall and wonderful. In the periphery of my vision I can see my mother, my brothers, my friends, acquaintances, and even strangers lining the back pews. In a flash of white, BJ turn
s and everyone else disappears. Our eyes meet and we’re alone in the church. Only him and me.
‘Wow,’ he mouths silently, his eyes blazing possessively.
Then my brother is moving forward and my legs follow his lead. I can feel the heavy train trailing for yards behind me, hear the swishing of the taffeta, smell the sweet perfume of the bouquets, and sense the solid muscles of my brother’s arm under my hand, but I am in a total daze. My eyes never leave BJ.
My brother takes his arm away and I look at him stupidly. He smiles and I turn my face back to BJ. He puts out a hand and gently pulls me towards him. He is so big and beautiful, I cannot believe that he is really mine. The tiepin that had started everything glints on his cravat, catching my eye. It doesn’t match and yet is perfect.
The vicar begins to recite our vows and I follow, repeating every word carefully, in awe of the sounds that leave my lips. For they come directly from some deep, unknown place inside my being.
‘I do,’ I say.
BJ slips the ring onto my finger and the vicar pronounces us man and wife. He doesn’t have time to give BJ permission to kiss the bride. BJ has already leaned over the yards and yards of material separating us and found my mouth. The congregation erupts: cheering, clapping, and whistling. We are a rowdy bunch, us gypsies.
Thelma leads me to a small room at the side of the church. Carefully, she removes the veil and the bolero. The hairdresser touches up my hair and they help me out of the door. I stand for a moment at the entrance of the church. Then I see a brilliant flash of white and the crowds part to let him through. BJ stops in front of me and stares transfixed, his eyes devouring me. The dress has been laced up too tight to take a deep calming breath so I take quick shallow breaths through my mouth. He takes my hand.
‘You ordered one princess?’ I whisper.
‘I did. And you ordered one lovesick husband?’
‘Husband,’ I repeat. The word lands onto my tongue as light as a butterfly. I find it to be a familiar word that brings peace to my entire body. As if I was always meant to be Mrs. Billy Joe Pilkington.